N.N.
Nomen Nescio.

In historical records and forensic registers, N.N. — Nomen Nescio, “Name Unknown” — was used to identify those whose names were unknown.

I borrowed this expression for a project that begins with something ordinary: handwritten shopping lists abandoned in supermarket carts.

Fragments of everyday life. Anonymous traces left behind by people we will never know.

We do not know who wrote them, what they were looking for, what they finally bought, or what happened once they left the supermarket. What remains is the handwriting, the words, the order of things — a small, accidental trace of a life that briefly crossed our own.

But these lists also speak of consumption. Of the subtle boundary between what we need and what we desire. Between necessity, habit and the unconscious pleasure of buying.

N.N. brings together these anonymous writings and the objects they evoke, removing them from their everyday context and asking us to look at them again.

A list becomes a trace.
An object becomes a presence.
And behind both, the absence of someone we will never know.

N.N. is an archive of ordinary lives, anonymous gestures and things we buy without really seeing them anymore.